This past weekend was just so jumbled and emotional and intense that I can't figure out how to put it all into one post. So I'll borrow a cliche or three, and split it up.

The good part was, I was reunited with my kids, and spent the weekend in Niagara Falls with good friends and their kids. We all had a great time (and if they didn't enjoy themselves, they faked it well enough to convince me) and I really needed just an estrogen-soaked weekend. None of us drinks, so we didn't sip the margaritas that would have best matched the mood, but I did make a big old pan of Chewy Gooeys (and no I will NOT share the recipe) and we fueled estrogen with chocolate.

I did the traveling in my minivan, with Wendy and her son Daniel, and Emily and Jacob, and we all behaved ourselves in the car. That is, I told my kids long ago that their music simply won't play in my car, so we didn't listen to a single Wiggle or similarly cute character. The kids alternately ate things and stowed the remnants in odd places on their bodies and in my car, read books and threw them on the floor, and played with toys and threw them at each other. Toddler bliss.

We went to breakfast and talked. We went sightseeing and talked. We witnessed a shoplifter and talked. We stayed up late and talked. It was lovely.